


Arthur's Bane

by from within (aconite_fic)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aconite_fic/pseuds/from%20within
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The love that binds us is more important than the power we wield.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arthur's Bane

Mordred goes out of the hall, smiling happily and feeling slightly dizzy. This had actually happened. He, a druid, had been knighted by King Arthur! He feels a tremble in his hands as he starts fumbling with the clasp of his cloak.

 

“Here,” he almost jumps a little when he hears the familiar voice. “Let me help you with that.” Merlin stands behind him and reaches for the buckle himself, undoing it quickly. His hands linger for a bit on his shoulders. “You know,” he whispers as he steps even closer, hands creeping down across Mordred’s chest. “If Arthur knew you had magic,” his lips caress the younger man’s neck, “things would be very different.” Merlin steps away then, stripping Mordred of both his cloak and his smile. Mordred breathes in deeply, not even having realized that his breathing had become too shallow for his lungs’ liking. He turns around.

 

“Tell me something,” Merlin speaks again.

 

“Of course.” _Anything. Please, Emrys…_

 

At this point, he’s not even sure what he was hoping for.

 

“You saved Arthur’s life,” he makes it sound like a bad joke. He smiles unbelievably, shaking his head as he works on the rest of Mordred’s equipment. “Why?”

 

“Because Arthur is right.” He swallows with difficulty as Merlin just stares at him. “The love that binds us is more important than the power we wield.” He lets the words sink in for a moment. “Morgana had forgotten that.” Merlin doesn’t answer, so Mordred just nods with a little smile and watches him walk away, probably going to put the cloak to be washed.

 

Mordred closes his eyes and he sighs. He feels like he could never make this – this shite of a relationship he has with Emrys, – he can’t make it right, he can’t gain his trust again. And that’s why—

 

He chases after Merlin. It doesn’t take him long to catch up. Merlin turns around swiftly at the sound of footsteps behind him, but he does nothing to protest as he gets pushed to the wall. For a second they just stay like that – Mordred’s hands on his shoulders, keeping him in place, Merlin’s own hands still grasping the cloak; their eyes never break contact. Merlin doesn’t speak; he just lifts his chin up in defiance. So Mordred leans in and captures his lips. The response is immediate.

 

One of Merlin’s hands grabs his shoulder, and then his neck as the kiss deepens. He makes the smallest grunts that Mordred can’t help but swallow, putting more pressure on the other’s lips, just to make him gasp for air. As he does, Mordred’s lips follow the line of his jaw, taste what is exposed of his neck. At that, Merlin grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls.

 

“Not here,” he groans and pushes free, striding immediately. Mordred follows, thrilled by the weight of the promise in Merlin’s tone. As they walk, he can’t help but notice that Merlin had never intended to go to the laundry rooms – they were on the opposite side of the castle. He was heading towards Mordred’s own bedchambers from the start. This makes him put a hand on Merlin’s waist urgently, fastening his pace.

 

Once they’re in the chambers, they waste no time. Merlin’s practiced hands make quick work on Mordred’s chainmail and garments, piling them neatly on the floor. As soon as he’s free to move, Mordred lets his own hands help Merlin out of his clothing as he steals small kisses from his lips. Merlin pushes him on the bed harshly, landing on top of him.

 

For a moment Merlin just stands still, bracing himself on his hands on top of Mordred, all kinds of torture running through his face. There’s this look in his eyes again – the desire to both stay and run away as fast as he can; to keep quiet and say everything there is to say; to let himself love Mordred and despise him – kill him, even.

 

Mordred understands. His fingers brush against a sharp cheekbone. A sigh, and he is being desperately kissed again.

 

Merlin grips his cock almost too tightly, tugging steadily. Mordred’s hands wrap around Merlin’s back and he pulls him close. His lips find his neck, shoulder, collarbones as he tries to muffle his own moans. Merlin is rutting against his hip and soon he shifts so that he can wrap his hand around both their cocks, quickly bringing them off. He then slumps to the side, rolling onto his back and breathing heavily. His eyes remain closed.

 

Mordred carefully lays his head on his shoulder, his fingers tracing the lines of Merlin’s chest.

 

“You don’t trust me,” he murmurs.

 

“I can’t,” comes the reply a few beats later.

 

“Do you fear me?” Mordred looks up. Merlin just shifts slightly, touching his forehead to Mordred’s. “I don’t want you to,” he whispers. Merlin shushes him and kisses him lightly.

  
”Sleep, now,” he smiles tenderly, the first genuine smile he has offered Mordred in a long time. He pulls a blanket over them and Mordred cuddles up next to him, warm enough already, but unwilling to let go.

 


End file.
